


Don’t Let Me Fall

by TrippinOverMyFandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Kinda in that area of the time line, Post Avengers, Pre Far From Home, Rumors, Rumours, T for mild language, quentin beck is work obessed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-07 20:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21223808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrippinOverMyFandoms/pseuds/TrippinOverMyFandoms
Summary: Rumours can be a bitch, Quentin isn’t oblivious to that. It’s worse when they’re about you and Quentin really wishes he hadn’t overheard Things would have been so much easier if he had kept to himself.





	Don’t Let Me Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t be the only American who prefers the spelling of Rumour to Rumor. It’s just prettier. Other words I’m not like that but ugh idk 
> 
> Also I really wanted to write a Halloween thing for sladiver but here I am writing a fic for my guilty pleasure ship since no one else is gonna do it and all the others are in like Chinese or include Quentin x Peter (which if you’ve read my other stuff that’s a no for me). I know the fandom for this ship exists too. 
> 
> Anyways- enjoy I guess

Quentin stood over his work space in the mechanics lab, staring down at the pieces of metal and strips of wire that seemed to mock him. It was as if the inanimate objects knew he was at a dead end. He had been stuck like this for the better half of the day, no ideas to connect the advancements he had made in coding, nothing matched up. He severely hoped that gazing at what he had to work with and thinking about all the previous steps would result in a breakthrough. So far nothing. 

With a frustrated groan he slams a fist on the table, making the pieces rattle for a second. All he could think of was more code. This wasn’t helpful at all, he needed more ideas for the physical stuff for the projection tech to work. Damn code taking up all his focus.

He figures it would probably be at least beneficial to write down his ideas, even if they weren’t what he needed nor wanted. If his brain insisted on working with code then so be it. Though, that didn’t mean he would go without kicking and screaming, technically speaking of course. 

Shoving the metal to the side as a show of irritation, Quentin turns his back on his work and exits the lab. The doors slide open almost soundlessly to allow him into the hall. The clock above the doorway tells him he’s missed his lunch break. That didn’t matter though. He wasn’t hungry and he was too busy, he had to make some sort of advancement today. He still got paid even if he didn’t but it was more for personal gain. 

This projection and illusion technology had been most of everything he worked on in college and what got him a spot at Stark Industries in the first place. He couldn’t just half-ass it like most of the other lab techs, engineers, and the like usually did- even if it consumed his every waking hour. As a result, his coworkers had called him obsessive and a stick in the mud when he turned down invitations to after work drinks. He wasn’t a drinker anyway. 

He beelines for the computer room, running numbers in his head that only made sense to him. It was more beneficial to code on the super computers the floor had instead of his laptop, things ran quicker and they were better equipped for that sort of stuff. 

If only he could have this much of a break through with the physical design, then they would get somewhere. Quentin didn’t even have a team he could bounce things off of either, today was their day off. Quentin didn’t take days off. No vacation days or sick days either. Even when he had been too sick to come into the office he had worked from home. Work was his life, this tech was his life, he didn’t have friends or family or really anything to live for other than his work.

Quentin notices a few people who haven’t left for lunch as well as actually in on a Sunday. The weekend staff was usually smaller than the rest, which was good in his case since it meant the floor would be quiet. He only gives them a glance out the corner of his eye as he looks for an open computer far enough away from everyone. Solitude was better for work. 

Randomly he picks one of the computers in the corner, it stood with three monitors and two keyboards. He probably only needed one of each but he had made a habit of going overboard just incase. 

Momentarily he closes his eyes as he sits down in the desk chair, recalling what he had thought up in the hall on the way here. If he kept them closed for too long he could likely take a nap relatively easy. Actually, when was the last time he had slept? Did he even leave the office the previous night? It probably wasn’t too good he couldn’t remember.

Quentin shakes himself out of it, that wasn’t work, he needed to focus on work. He pulls up a program and begins typing out what was at the forefront of his mind, going from there and connecting stray dots. Only for a second does he stop to think and a second is all it takes.

He doesn’t consider himself a person who eavesdrops regularly let alone at all. That was other people’s business not his. It was unnecessary drama and he preferred to remain drama free. But in the second of silence he caught something along the lines of, “You’ve got to be dense if you haven’t noticed.” One of Quentin’s faults was being paranoid. Despite trying to tell himself it didn’t concern him, he couldn’t help how he froze in his spot, work suddenly abandoned to listen in. Maybe if he continued to listen his paranoia could be put to rest and he could get back to work. 

“Stark has prioritized his project and helps Beck with it personally, clearly there’s a reason.” Unfortunately the next like he hears does concern him. Shit. Now he wishes he hadn’t heard. What the hell could they be on about? He knew Tony Stark had accepted him when he caught word of his project. Quentin had been straight out of college and looking for funding, it was like a dream for Stark to swoop in and offer. Only months later did he increase funding and showed up on multiple occasions to help out with the work. He had even assigned Quentin an expert team and made the whole project a Stark Industries priority. It hadn’t gone public yet but Quentin was just happy with what he had. Especially since he had been a kid with no one but a community college professor to believe in him. That had all been two years ago.

But that was common knowledge. Everyone knew that. It didn’t escape the attention of other employees that the new kid had more attention than seasoned workers. It was jealously and he knew that. So that had to be what this was about. He didn’t even know who was talking about him at the moment either, he hadn’t even bothered to take note of who else was in the computer room. Maybe he should have.

“You think Stark has something to gain from it? Other than clout and fortune obviously,” he hears someone else say. What were they getting at?

“I mean, Beck is Stark’s latest fascination. It’s usually secretaries and assistants but I personally think he’s getting bored with that. He’s branching out, experimenting if you will.” And all at once Quentin forgets how to breathe. He wasn’t great with social cues but he knew enough that they meant Tony Stark has him in his sights as a potential lover of some sort. It was absurd but not unlike the billionaire. Quentin just wasn’t sure what kind of evidence they had other than Tony’s involvement in the project.

Deciding he had heard enough, Quentin closes down the computer and heads out of the room as quickly yet casually as he can. He doesn’t want whoever it was to know he had heard if he happened to pass them. 

It was ridiculous, he thinks as he heads back to the mechanics lab. What would Tony Stark find remotely attractive about an obsessive, blunt person like himself? Quentin wasn’t even that experienced, hell, he wasn’t experienced. He had maybe had sex once or twice in his entire lifetime and he was only twenty-five! From what the media had to say it seemed Stark usually went for the type who were used to sleeping around. That type was usually women. If there had been men Quentin hadn’t heard about it. 

Despite how crazy it sounded, he couldn’t get it out of his head. It affected him more that he wanted it to. If it was true, if Stark had something to gain, then the whole project hung in the balance. 

Quentin nearly walks right into the clear door to the mechanics lab when he spot none other than Tony Stark himself standing by his own work. He takes a deep breath and steels himself as he waits for the soft swish of the doors before he enters. The sound causes Tony to turn around. “Quentin,” he greats and if they hadn’t been working together for the past two years he would have wondered why they were on a first name basis. 

Quentin just nods as he pushes past Tony to analyze his abandoned work, or at least he tries to anyways. Tony feels too close and the weight of what he overheard bears down on him like several tons. The air even feels thick and breathing normally is an effort.

“It’s impressive,” Stark says, rounding the table to stand opposition Quentin, “though, I was looking at it while you were gone and I think that if you move that blue wire there to here it’d help transmitting bits run quicker.” He points out each bit as he demonstrates and Quentin isn’t really listening. He just lets Tony do his thing, which is talking and that’s not something he himself is particularly good at. 

“Really I came down to check up on you kid. Knowing you, you probably didn’t leave last night hm?” He taps on the table to get Quentin’s attention and it works because he looks at up him. Quentin blinks a few times, trying to form coherent thoughts and act normal. This shouldn’t be a big deal, it was just office gossip, nothing more than an opinion. What had Stark asked?

“Judging by the dark circles I’d say you didn’t.” Oh, he must have asked if he ever went home. So Quentin shakes his head, bracing his weight against the table instead of standing there awkward and stiff. “Guessing you haven’t eaten yet either?” Tony presses, Quentin almost over thinks it but he has to remind himself of the all nighters they’ve pulled working on the project and this wouldn’t be the first time Tony came to check in on him. 

“No,” Quentin replies, mouth dry and he has to swallow a few times to clear the feeling, “No, not yet. I’ve been to busy trying to figure this out.” He vaguely remembered what Tony had pointed out and that seemed to be the breakthrough he needed. Suddenly he’s revived and everything is forgotten about expect work. A compulsion takes over him and he begins to fiddle with the wires, accidentally electrocuting himself at least once as he tries to process all the new ideas rushing to him all at once.

“If I can’t convince you to step away for a second I’ll order something in.” Was stark still talking? Quentin didn’t know for sure but one thing led to another and all of a sudden he was at a dead end again. Everything was gone just like that and he was back to where he started with little to no progress. “Dammit,” he mutters, pounding his fist on the table. He was suddenly ignited with a rage at the loss.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, you need a break. Come on,” it’s Tony, Quentin hadn’t realized the other man had moved.

“I have to finish this, I need to figure it out.” His chest tightens, the touch feeling like fire. A new train of thought emerges at the suggestion presented. If he left with Stark what would that mean? How would everyone else perceive it? What would it mean if he gave into paranoia and turned Tony down? 

He lets himself be led out of the lab, stuck in his own head that he’s not able to protest. 

This couldn’t become a thing. He couldn’t let the rumours be true. Quentin refused to fall victim to that as he was led away, telling himself that Tony was simply a concerned boss, a concerned coworker, and, dare he think it, a concerned friend. Nothing more.


End file.
